Lost and Found
by FuyuMitsukai
Summary: Sophie has a change of heart and Howl finds himself lost without her. Can he find love without her or is he doomed to mope forever?
1. Leaving? No!

**Summary:** Sophie has a change of heart and Howl finds himself lost without her. Can he find love without her or is he doomed to mope forever?

**Disclaimer:** I's not be owning, kay?

**A/N:** Oh, look, another fanfiction to add to the list. Sorry, I just had too. I saw the movie, then read the book, and loved it so much that I had to write a fanfiction. And I'm going to try something a little different this time. Also, this fic is mostly based off of the book, so if you're confused with any references, I suggest reading or researching it.

--

**Lost and Found**

**Chapter One - Leaving? No!**

--

Howl couldn't believe anything. Not his eyes. Not his ears. Not Sophie hanging off of Prince Justin's arm right in front of him. None of it. How could he? It was impossible.

Right?

He watched as Sophie turned slightly to look up at Prince Justin with an expression that shook Howl's soul. So much love was in that look, there was no way it could be fake. She used to give _him_ that look. He felt everything drain out of him and he suddenly felt the need to sit down.

"Sophie," he said faintly as he swayed where he stood. When had the feelings transferred? Had he done something wrong? Had she finally gotten fed up with all his vices? He could see it now. Her detachment from him and reluctance to accept his affections. Her frequent absences. She had been going to see Prince Justin to get away from him and had fallen in love. How hadn't he noticed until now? And would he have been able to stop this from happening?

"Howl?"

He lifted his eyes to her beautiful face, hope stirring in his chest before being crushed under the look in her eyes. He couldn't describe it. It left him hollow. She couldn't possibly be looking at him with pity. Not while she was taking out the heart she had given him and stomping on it. How could she leave him while she knew that he still loved her? Was that what the look was for? Did she pity him?

"I'm alright," he said stiffly. No you're not, he told himself. Not at all.

"I just wanted to say goodbye before I left. Tell Michael where I've gone. Though I'm sure he'll guess the answer before you tell him. Hearts change all the time."

Howl tuned out the rest of her words, not caring if he heard anymore. Pity! She pitied him for having a broken heart. He didn't want her pity! He wanted her to love him again!

"Goodbye, Howl."

He looked up again to watch her back as she followed Prince Justin to the door. For a brief moment, he entertained the thought of telling Calcifer to lock the two inside. He would kill the prince and Sophie…

Then the moment was gone and the door closed softly behind both of them. He stared at the door, waiting for it to open. He waited and waited, yet the door remained shut.

Why?

Why was this happening to him?

What did he do to deserve this?

"Howl?" Calcifer called nervously from the fire place.

"I'm alright," he muttered, knowing at the same time that the fire demon didn't believe a word.

Calcifer shifted on the logs. "Er, okay. Just no slime again please."

Howl didn't hear him. He was too busy spiraling down in his misery to care. Why why why why why why why why why why why why…

_Hearts change all the time._

So that's what happened.

Slowly, the room grew darker and darker. Calcifer shrank under the logs, muttering to himself that Sophie could have at least stayed long enough to calm Howl down. Howl let out a pitiful whimper as he curled up on himself and his skin turned pale.

"Michael!" Calcifer yelled as he shrank further under the logs and wished fervently that there would be no green slime this time. "Michael!" he yelled again. Howl began to wail and gibber softly and only when he grew louder did Michael finally trudge down the stairs sleepily.

"What's going on?" he asked as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"What the hell do you think is going on?" Calcifer snapped. "You were the first person Sophie told about Prince Justin."

Hands over his ears, Michael frowned at Howl, who continued to wail and rock himself back and forth. "You mean he's …"

"Heart-broken? Yes. See if you can calm him down. He won't listen to me."

And so Michael proceeded to try and coax Howl out of his state of bawling for the next hour and a half. Finally, Howl was down to sniffling and he let Michael lead him up the stairs to his room. There, he lay down in bed and refused to move. Days went by and Michael feared that Howl was trying to starve himself to death. Any food that was brought to him, even the sweets that Michael brought back from his visits with Martha Hatter, were left untouched. Neither Michael nor Calcifer could talk him out of his depressed stupor. When he wasn't sleeping, Howl would pace around his room or lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Even the spiders in his room seemed to grow concerned.

One day Michael finally got fed up. He came stomping down the stairs using curses Calcifer had never heard before.

"What's wrong?" Calcifer asked warily.

"I can't take this anymore!" the boy cried. "I can't continue to operate the shop all by myself. I wish Sophie hadn't left. She could have made him see reason."

"If Sophie hadn't left in the first place, we wouldn't have this problem," Calcifer snapped. "You need to find help."

"Me?" Michael asked despairingly. "Why me?"

"Because no one wants to help a fire demon." The door swung open to Market Chippings. "Now go."

Crossing his arms, Michael sighed. "Alright, alright. I'll go." He slammed the door on his way out.

--

It had been nearly three hours and Michael still could not find someone willing to help him. Three damn long hours, he raged inwardly. He would have thought that the first woman he asked would have jumped at the chance to help Howl, but apparently not. The new bit of gossip was nice, but no one could be bothered long enough to actually be helpful. And they looked at him as if they expected him to do it himself. As if he knew anything of heartbreak. Sure, he had seen plenty of girls heartbroken over Howl, but he couldn't exactly shove Howl out of the house like he had done with the girls. This was different and he had no idea where to start.

Sighing, Michael sat down to rest his feet. He was seriously considering throwing water on Calcifer when he got back. It would serve him right for sending him out like this. Lifting a foot to his knee, he surveyed the evening crowd. He could recognize most of the faces and he ticked off in his head a list of the ones he had asked for help already.

A flash of blond caught his eye and he stood up. It was the same man that he had seen several times that day. He was all over the place and Michael had finally determined that he was running errands. He had thought to ask him for help a few times, but every time he actually decided to ask, he had disappeared.

Not this time though. No sir. He was going to get someone to help, even if he had to drag them back to the castle. By their hair even.

There was another flash of blond. And Michael raced after it. The people he pushed aside in his rush let out yelps and curses, but he ignored them. "Hey, mister!" he called out. A few people turned to look at him but the blond man continued on. Tired and angry, Michael decided that he had had enough of being nice to these people. Once he was close enough, he made a darting grab for the man's long hair.

With a startled yelp, the man stopped and turned around just as Michael let go. The man placed a hand on the back of his head.

"Sorry, mister, but do you think you could…"

Michael was cut off with a sharp frown. Okay, maybe he shouldn't have pulled on his hair.

"That's the third time today," his victim muttered. "Maybe I should let my hair down."

Michael watched in mute fascination as blond hair suddenly tumbled around slight shoulders and the face of rather effeminate-looking man was replaced by that of a young woman. The things that he hadn't noticed before - like the slight curve of her hips and the baggy shirt hiding her bust size - became apparent.

Oh. Oops.

"Now," she said softly. Her voice was slightly husky, bring back the image of the man for a second. "What can I help you with?"

Michael's mind went blank, still baffled by this woman who dressed like a man. "Why aren't you wearing a dress, lady?" he blurted out.

A frown flickered across the woman's face and Michael had to wonder if he had just ruined his chances of getting help from her. Then the frown cleared. "Never mind that. Did you need something? Or did you just feel the need to pull on some stranger's hair?"

Michael shifted in embarrassment. "Sorry about that, but I really do need help."

She nodded and held out a hand. "My name is Ophelia. I will help you however I can after I finish my last errand."

Michael took her hand with relief. Finally! "Michael Fisher. You have no idea what this means to me. I've been looking for someone to help me all day."

Ophelia smile, the corner of her mouth quirking slightly. "I've noticed. Let's get going."


	2. Healing

**Summary:** Sophie has a change of heart and Howl finds himself lost without her. Can he find without her or is he doomed to mope forever?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them. I have a copy of the book for reference, but that's about it.

**A/N:** So this feels like the fastest I've chucked out a chapter. Seriously, I sat down and finished the whole chapter in one day and I didn't feel rushed at all. Hopefully the quality still stays intact? Thank you, Toki, for the beta!

**-----**

**Lost and Found**

**Chapter Two - Healing**

**-----**

Michael found himself gripping Ophelia's hand as they made their way through the thickest part of the crowds, making him feel suddenly younger in a rather uncomfortable way. Once they were clear, he freed his hand and looked down at his feet when she smiled at him. No offense intended, but he really didn't want to feel like he was being led along by his mother again. He was too old for that.

Shaking the irritation aside, he focused on the task at hand. Ophelia held a bouquet of daisies that were to be delivered to their next destination. The man that had made the request was too busy, not to mention nervous, to present them himself. It was up to Ophelia to deliver them with a mention of the sender, and then she would be free to help Michael. The thing that bugged him was that the direction they were going was disturbingly familiar.

"Um, Ophelia?"

The blond looked over at him. "Hm?"

Michael twisted his hands together. "Who are the flowers for?"

"Martha Hatter at the Bakery."

Jealousy flared in his chest, tinting his cheeks pink. "Martha hates daisies," he muttered.

Ophelia suddenly smiled. "She's a big girl, Michael," she said softly. "I'm sure she'll turn away this suitor just like the others." She lifted the flowers to her face to smell them, an action that lit up her more feminine features. "Bring her flowers tomorrow to make up for these. I'm sure you know her favorite." She winked at him.

"You can't just throw them away?"

She frowned. "Don't tell me you're worried. She likes you, yes?"

"Well, yes-"

"Then there's nothing to worry about. Now let me finish this job and then I can help you with your problem." She reached out to ruffle his hair and he glared at her while trying to smooth it back down.

The tinkling of a bell alerted Michael of their location and he redoubled his efforts on his hair.

"Delivery, Martha," Ophelia called out, waving the daisies above her head, careless of the petals that fell as she did so.

Martha's head popped up from behind the counter and she smiled. Dumping her armful of treats onto the counter for the children bouncing on their heels before her, she quickly finished the transaction in seconds and shooed the already sugar-high children laughing out the door. Then she waved Ophelia over.

"Daisies again?" she mused, taking the flowers from Ophelia.

"He sends his love, just like yesterday," Ophelia said in strained formality, amusement biting into her inflection.

"And the day before that," Martha quipped half-heartedly as she tossed the bouquet towards the waste basket. The jealousy growing in Michael's chest relented. "You told him that I rejected him again yesterday, right?"

Ophelia nodded. "If the fool boy wants to continue to waste money on flowers and delivery, it's not my problem."

Michael cleared his throat. "Someone's been bothering you, Martha?"

Martha's eyes lit up when she noticed Michael for the first time. "You could say that. Ben's practically obsessed with me. I don't know what he would have done if Ophelia hadn't stepped in."

Ophelia laughed. "That's harsh. I hardily 'stepped in'. He asked me to bring you flowers. As far as I can tell, he's only a harm to himself." When Martha laughed in return, Ophelia's expression froze, as if she just remembered something bad. Glancing over at Michael, she sighed. "And as much as I'd love to stay and chat, we have pressing business. Have a good day, Martha." Gripping the boy's hand, she led him from the shop.

Startled by Ophelia's sudden change in aura, Michael bit back a protest, unsure of what to expect. Silence surrounded them like an envelope. It was unnerving and he wondered what he had gotten himself into by electing Ophelia's help. She looked like she was lost in thought and her pace, so fast at first, gradually slowed to a stop. The thinning crowds easily avoided the pair like a slow stream, oblivious to Michael's desperate expression.

"Ophelia?" he ventured softly.

She turned to him, jumping slightly in surprise. "Oh, Michael."

"Are you alright?"

She nodded slowly. "I'm fine. Martha just reminded me of something... unpleasant." The strangled expression faded from her face and she smiled. "Let's go fix your problem."

**-----**

When the door opened, announcing Michael's return, Calcifer was nearly frantic. "Thank god you're back! I heard something upstairs and Howl won't answer me! Go check up on him!"

Ophelia entered seconds behind Michael and she stood staring at the fire demon as he gestured towards the stairs with little arms. "Wizard Howl, huh?"

Sighing, she rolled up her sleeves and quickly bound her hair back again. "I'll go."

Calcifer stared as she disappeared upstairs. "Was that a girl?"

"I wouldn't question her gender in her presence," Michael said darkly. "She's the only person willing to help."

Upstairs, Ophelia was confronted by a strange sight. Howl, a man she faintly recognized from running around town, lay sprawled in the doorway to the strangest room she had seen. He was murmuring softly to himself in his sleep and Ophelia shook her head.

"Alright, buddy. Let's at least get you in bed." Crouching over him, she hauled him off the floor and carefully carried him over to the bed. Spiders scattered at her approach, but lingered close by. Ophelia was baffled by their attachment to the unconscious man, but she scratched that off as 'a wizard thing.'

Once Howl was settled in bed, Ophelia surveyed the room. A strange bottle lay at her feet, its contents long gone, lost to Howl's stomach, no doubt. The room otherwise held to clues to the man's condition. Sighing, Ophelia brushed blond strands from How's face and rested a hand on his forehead. Her eyes widened when she realized he was alarmingly warm.

"Michael!" she shouted, completely disregarding her sleeping patient. "Michael!" Howl stirred and moaned, but remained dead to the world.

The boy came bounding into the room. "Is he okay?" he asked, wringing his hands together.

Ophelia snatched the bottle from the ground and tossed it at him. "He has a fever. And I think he might have tried to poison himself. Can you tell what was in that bottle?"

Michael sniffed at the bottle and paled. "Something he shouldn't have been drinking."

Ophelia rolled her eyes and grabbed the bottle. When she delicately sniffed the bottle, a sickeningly sweet smell reached her nose. She was happy that it didn't smell acidic. "Specifics would be nice, but that's all I really need to know." Brushing her long bangs from her face, she looked down at Howl. "I need a lot of water. And a basin. He needs to throw up whatever in was he drank."

"But-"

Ophelia rounded on him. "Unless you know an antidote, do as I say!" she snapped.

Michael ran from the room and Ophelia leaned over Howl, shaking him gently. "Come on, Howl. Wake up." The man groaned and his brow furrowed, but he remained in the grips of sleep. Resisting the urge to slap him, Ophelia hoisted him up into a sitting position. "Wake up, damn you" She shook him roughly and his head nodded back and forth in response. Her voice took a desperate tone. "Stubborn bastard, I'm trying to save your life!" She shook him once more and this time his eyes fluttered open. With a sigh of relief, Ophelia relaxed her hold and started smoothing his hair out of his face.

Seconds later Michael trudged into the room with a basin under one arm and a glass and pitcher in his hands. "He's awake?" he asked anxiously as he set the basin on the bed.

Ophelia nodded and pressed a finger to her lips, indicating that she needed silence on his part if he was to stay. Taking the pitcher and glass, she poured some water into the glass and pressed it to How's lips. He maned and mumbled something indiscernible, but drank down the water. Then Ophelia poured another glass and the process started again. By the fourth glass of water, Howl started protesting weakly, his mumblings growing louder. When he pushed the glass away, sloshing the water on Ophelia and himself, Ophelia sighed and started speaking to him softly in the most soothing voice Michael had ever heard. It was the second time the day that she had reminded him of his mother.

"Just a little more, Howl. Come on, this will make you feel better."

Suddenly, Howl made an odd sound and Ophelia pushed the basin closer. The sound came again, this time followed by a sickening splash in the basin. Michael felt himself gagging and fled from the room. The last thing he saw before he left was Ophelia cooing softly to Howl that everything was okay as she held his hair back.

**-----**

When the sounds of Howl emptying his stomach finally ceased, Ophelia trod down the stairs, weary but satisfied. "He's going to be fine," she explained. "He still has a fever, but that should break during the night. I'll watch over him so you two can get some rest."

Michael blinked at her in surprise. She had done all the work and was going to let them rest? What was with this girl? "You should rest too!" he protested.

"I'll be fine," she said, smiling.

"But-"

"Don't bother," Calcifer muttered to him. "He looks like he's going to be stubborn about this."

A shadow passed over Ophelia's face and Michael paled significantly. "Little fire demon, unless you like bile being poured on you, never refer to me as a man again."

Calcifer shrank back into the fireplace, eying her over the log he hid behind. "Sorry, sorry! It's just hard to tell with you dressed like that."

Ophelia huffed and crossed her arms, a small amount of cleavage appearing in the loosely tied cut of her shirt. "I am well aware of that. I pray I don't need to undress to prove my gender to you?"

"Er, no. I'm convinced."

"Good." Dropping her arms, she pat Michael gently on the head before turning back to the stairs. "Goodnight."

**-----**

Ophelia was starting to grow tired when Howl started murmuring in his sleep again. The damp cloth she had place on his forehead slid from its place and Ophelia dipped it in the remaining water in the pitcher before replacing it. Howl moaned softly at the touch and opened his eyes. A weak hand reached for and wrapped around Ophelia's wrist, startling her. Their eyes connected and for a desperate moment, Ophelia found herself drowning in blue eyes. Emotions swam freely in the fevered man's eyes, the intensity stopping Ophelia's breath in her chest. She fought to look away.

"Sophie," he whispered, his eyes tearful. "Don't leave." Ophelia froze when his hand moved to her face. "You're not her," he said mournfully.

Slowly, Ophelia gently removed Howl's hand from her face and held it between her own. "Sleep, Howl. I am not leaving."

Oddly comforted by her words, Howl drifted back into unconsciousness.


	3. Shame on You

**Summary:** Sophie has a change of heart and Howl finds himself lost without her. Can he find without her or is he doomed to mope forever?

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, 'kay?

**A/N:** So, um, I've realized recently that, while I posted this on dA, I never posted it here. I don't know how this happened, exactly, but I'm so sorry. Here it is… damnitIamsoembarrassed.

* * *

**Lost and Found**

**Chapter Three - Shame on You**

Morning found Ophelia asleep, propped against the side of Howl's bed with one hand resting near his pillow as if she had dozed off halfway through checking his temperature. Her hair had fallen loose of its band and was scattered around her shoulders like a silken blanket.

Howl stared down at this strange creature. He could vaguely remember her, but couldn't recall from where. He couldn't remember much of the night before either, but he supposed that was a good thing, judging by the putrid state he was in. He could smell vomit. A bath was definitely in order.

Careful not to disturb the sleeping woman, Howl crawled out of bed and trudged to the bathroom. He splashed his face with water a few times to wake himself up. It was then as he stared at his dripping reflection that his memories of the days before returned to him like a slap to the face.

His attempt to kill himself had failed. He had lived to see another day where Sophie was not a part of his life.

"Nooo," he moaned, falling against the side of the tub. "No, no, no, no."

Why was he alive? Why was he still breathing? Why was his heart still beating? That poison should have killed him. Judging by the soreness of his throat and the lingering taste of bile on his tongue, he must have thrown up during the night. Simply throwing up shouldn't have saved him. So, why?

In his musings, Howl didn't notice the door had open until an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

The woman?

He lifted his head a little but didn't turn. Why couldn't be he left alone to wallow in his misery?

When the stranger's presence moved beside him, he groaned and rested his forehead on the edge of the tub.

"How are you feeling?" Her hand came to rest on his back, motionless for a second before moving in slow, soothing circles.

"Leave me," he said softly, his voice barely rising above a whisper because of the throbbing in his throat.

The hand on his back stopped and the warmth at his shoulder shifted away. "What?" The gentleness in her voice seemed to have vanished.

Howl finally spun around, throwing the hand off his back as he faced her. "I said leave me!" he croaked. "I wish to die."

The woman stared at him in shock for a long moment before fury filled her eyes. "I had hoped I was dealing with a case of plain stupidity but it seems I was wrong. Suicide! Honestly." With a huff, she grabbed something from the floor, a glass of water, and shoved it in his hands, some of the warm liquid sloshing out of the cup onto his lap. "Drink that and take a bath. I'll yell at you when you don't look so much like you're ill." She stood quickly and stomped out of the room. "I'm going to send Michael in to make sure you don't drown yourself. Idiot."

Howl winced as she slammed the door shut.

A few minutes later found Howl brooding miserably in the tub now filled with water. He was begrudgingly thankful to the woman for the glass of water and whatever else she put in it, as his throat felt better. He immediately retracted the unspoken thanks when Michael entered the room and closed the door softly behind him. The boy shifted anxiously by the door before he spoke.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

Howl averted his eyes, preferring to watch the ripples his breathing caused in the water instead of Michael's concerned face. "I'm alive," he stated, his voice devoid of tone or any indication of feeling.

"Oh." Michael shifted again, obviously uncomfortably with his mentor's behavior.

After a long silence and more awkward shuffling from Michael, Howl sighed and glanced at the boy. "You can leave. I won't drown myself." He looked up at the ceiling, his head lolling back against the rim of the tub. "There are much more dignified ways to die."

"Well, um, Ophelia said to hurry up and get dressed."

"Her name's Ophelia, is it?" Howl muttered, sitting up in the water to reach the soap. He wasn't doing this because he had been told to hurry up. No, no, no. This was his own choosing. "She doesn't look like an Ophelia."

"She's very angry, Howl," Michael said carefully.

"I'm the one who's angry." Howl grumbled as he scrubbed his at his left shoulder.

"But she saved your life."

Howl turned to Michael, scowling. "I didn't ask to be saved. Leave me!"

Shocked into silence, Michaels hurried out of the bathroom, leaving Howl to absorb the words he had just spoken. Sighing heavily, he placed his face in his hands and cursed himself silently. Maybe he should apologize for that one.

Howl rushed through the rest of his bath and ignored the quiet voices from down stairs as he crossed to his room to change. He emerged a few minutes later toweling his hair dry and dressed in simple black trousers and a white button-down shirt. He chose to forgo donning one of his usual bright jackets. He wasn't up for any outings that required primping. His heart was still so very heavy.

He trod down the stairs slowly, no exactly excited to face the strange woman again. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he sighed heavily though his nose and set the towel around the back of his neck. Michael looked up shyly from his seat at the table, his fingers winding together on the worn surface in front of him.

"What a complete and utter moron."

Startled, Howl turned to see the blonde woman (Ophelia, his memory provided) leaning against the side of the fireplace, her face etched with anger.

"I beg your pardon?"

Her fury increased. "My pardon? No, sir, that you cannot have." She stepped away from the wall and made a wide gesture at the room. "Do you realized what you've done?"

Howl took in the room. It was a disaster - books and bowls and ingredients and utensils were everywhere. It was as if a woman had never touched the room. Howl's heart tightened at the thought. Oh, Sophie…

"It's called neglect." Ophelia continued lowly. "You should be ashamed, leaving this child to fend for himself-"

Rage bubbled in Howl's chest. How dare she! He cut her words off with his own. "That's enough."

The woman's chin lifted and her eyes narrowed. "Hit a nerve, have I?"

Howl walked forward to tower over her. "I thank you for your services here. I suggest you leave now."

She didn't move. "Why did you do it? Why try to kill yourself?" Her voice was soft, pleading and coaxing. He saw the change in her face. The curve of her brow and lips held sadness instead of anger. Her eyes held concern. Concern! Not pity. Concern from a woman…

For a moment, Howl almost seemed to shrink in stature. His eyes slid shut and he sucked in a slow breath. "She left me for another man," he said softly.

"Were you married to her?"

His eyes flew open. "… no."

Exhaling sharply through her nose, Ophelia rolled her eyes and muttered to herself. "You're a grown man, Mr. Howl. Yes, heartbreak is painful. That's why you grieve. But then you move on." With deliberate slowness she walked over and placed her hands on Michael's shoulders. "You have a responsibility to this kid right here, remember?"

Howl's head bowed forward.

Oh. Good. God.

He was so stupid. How? How could he have let this happen? How could he have been so blinded by grief that he forgot everything else?

There was a long silence.

"Michael, Calcifer, I… I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."

Michael clamored from his seat and launched himself at Howl while Calcifer let out a heavy sigh of relief from the fireplace.

Ophelia watched Howl and Michael exchange some small words before smiling and turning towards the door. Howl noticed her retreat.

"Ophelia, wait."

She stopped and turned back to face him. He took a second to see her, really see her, this time with his mind clear. He took in her long hair, her slim, straight form, her pale gray eyes. A strange woman.

"You saved my life. I don't know how to repay you."

She sighed and bowed her head politely. "That's not necessary." Her expression appeared suddenly closed off.

"You said you wanted to check back on us afterwards," Michael pipped up. "Remember, when Howl was in the bath? Why not live with us for a while?"

Howl glanced around the room once more and winced. "This place could certainly use a woman's touch again. What do you say?"

"Well, I…" Ophelia glanced around, clearly hesitant. Her feet shifted against the floor, her knees bent as if preparing to flee. Sensing this, Howl let all of the tension out of his own body and gave her his most charming smile. He felt a little trill in his chest when she relaxed a little in response.

"Pleeeease," Michael pleaded, his timing seeming perfect.

Sighing, Ophelia threw her hand up and stepped out of the doorway. "Oh, all right. I'm sure the landlady will be thrilled to have the apartment open for rent again. She's more than paid back my mother's favor to her."

"Yes!" Michael cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

"Only until Mr. Doom and Gloom gets over his heartache, okay?"

"Yep!" He grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the stairs. "I'm going to give you a tour!"

"Michael, I've got to head to work!"

"It'll be quick, I promise!"

Howl listened to them thump up the stairs as he fell into the chair in front of the fireplace. The light flickered and he looked up to see Calcifer watching him. With a quirk of his lips, he leaned his head back to gaze at the ceiling.

"This should be interesting."

Calcifer huffed, blowing sparks onto the bricks in front of him. "Interesting, he says. Right. And I'm only a little warm."

Howl laughed.


End file.
